


you never believe the shitty things i think

by CallicoKitten



Series: but i've been thinking of you fondly for sure [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smut, WELL I AM, alone with dinosaurs and such, and mick sure as hell is, are we really not going to talk about ray spending a good few months in the cretaceous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:16:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8352358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: If anyone asks, Mick's blaming Len for all this. Mick blames Len for most things wrong in his life but the fucking puppy dog scientist that he's suddenly inherited is at the top of the list. He's been carrying on a very long and one-sided argument with Len over this and he knows he shouldn't be angry at Len, Len's dead after all, bit the bullet because he got it into his thick head he was expendable over the rest of them.That's what you get, Mick supposes, when you spend too much time around heroes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> im honestly surprised ray palmer hasn't suffered some kind of nervous breakdown yet
> 
> i wanted to post this earlier but life intervened so lets just pretend i posted this last week <3

If anyone asks, Mick's blaming Len for all this. Mick blames Len for most things wrong in his life but the fucking puppy dog scientist that he's suddenly inherited is at the top of the list. He's been carrying on a very long and one-sided argument with Len over this and he knows he shouldn't be angry at Len, Len's dead after all, bit the bullet because he got it into his thick head he was expendable over the rest of them.

That's what you get, Mick supposes, when you spend too much time around heroes.

New Guy is still looking green when they get back to the ship but at least he's stopped puking everywhere. As soon as they reach the bridge, Palmer slumps down into one of the seats. "You have _no_ idea how good it feels to be back inside," he says, closing his eyes.

Mick eyes Palmer up surreptitiously from across the room, he's still not sure about the New Guy, doesn't want to give anything away. He looks like he's lost a bit of weight and the tears in his t-shirt suggests his run ins with big nasty tooth-filled lizards haven't always ended in a dashing criminal with a flame-gun swooping in to save him, but he's walking and all his limbs are intact so Mick figures they've gotten off lightly.

The New Guy looks a little steadier and he's gazing at Palmer thoughtfully, "How long were you there for?"

Palmer sits up, "About three months," he says, like that's not an insanely long time to be stuck in the middle of prehistoric America.

"Oh my god," New Guy says, sounding kind of awed. "That's incredible. How did you even survive that long?"

Palmer laughs, humourlessly, "Well, luckily I'm a fast learner. You would not _believe_ how wrong Jurassic Park was about things."

New Guy makes a face, "Yeah, I don't think those films are really held up for their accuracy."

Palmer hums in agreement. He looks kind of spun out, Mick thinks so he intervenes, stepping towards them and drawling, "You got co-ordinates for anyone else yet, Pretty?"

New Guy jumps at that, "Almost! I've narrowed the location of Martin Stein and Jefferson Jackson to a decade or so," he wanders off in the direction of Hunter's office. "Sara's proving more difficult..."

"Don't rush yourself," Mick calls after him. "Not like we ain't got time."

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Palmer says. "And a nap. I _never_ thought I'd be so excited to be sleeping on a thin twin size mattress."

Mick gives him ten minutes or so before he follows.

\---

See, Mick's never really been one for relationships.

There's Len and there's Lisa, who came prepaid and packaged with Len, outside of that, there was no one. Girls would come and go, stay a night or an hour or two, it was all Mick needed.

This whole 'team' thing has thrown a wrench in the works.

\---

Palmer jerks when Mick wanders into his room, spinning around, eyes wide, empty hands stretching out for weapons before he remembers and his arms fall to his side. He smiles, weakly, "Mick, hi."

"You doin' alright, Haircut?" Mick asks, from the doorway.

Palmer's shirtless, standing in the doorway of his bathroom. Under the grime Mick can see the criss-crossing scars that Palmer certainly didn't have before his stint in the past. Some of them are mostly healed, puckered little pale lines running across his chest and back. There's a row of three that runs along Palmer's left hip, raised and pink, still healing.

Palmer catches him staring and grins, he's trying to make it look easy but there's something off about it that makes Mick want to burn something until it's black and brittle and charred. "Albertonykus," he explains. "They're small but they apparently don't take too kindly to giant mammals stumbling into their burrows." 

"I'm going to kill him," Mick says, only half listening to Palmer. While Mick was still getting used to the Waverider's controls, the New Guy had talked his ear off about evidence for 'Jurassic Man', the flimsy tools they'd found, spears and bows and arrows and such. Not much in the face of ten foot lizards.

"Kill?" Palmer echoes. "Kill who?"

Mick steps into the room and traces a scar that runs along the side of Palmer's ribcage, curving round to taper off just above Palmer's waistband. Mick lets his hand rest there and Palmer sighs, leaning in to the touch like it's the most incredible thing he's ever felt.

Oh, Mick is _so_ going to snap Hunter's scrawny little neck when they finally track the limey bastard down.

When they were kids, Len would get sent down on his own sometimes. Mick still remembers Len's first time in Iron Heights, the way he came back with six broken ribs and a limp and Mick made a note of the names of everyone that laid a hand on him and tracked them down when they got out, made sure they regretted laying a hand on Len.

"I haven't showered in six months," Palmer says, weakly.

"You're telling me," Mick mutters, then he frowns. "You told the New Guy three."

"Who's counting," Palmer murmurs.

Mick snorts, "Yeah, I'm definitely going to kill him."

Palmer must catch on that Mick's talking about Hunter because he says, "Awh, come on, Mick, I'm sure he didn't mean to - "

Mick holds up a hand. "No. No, you don't get to defend him for this."

Palmer let's it go, it's probably because he's exhausted but Mick hopes it's because Palmer's finally decided he's worth the air and space he occupies and that someone dumping him in the middle of lizard land isn't easy to forgive.

God, he looks tired.

Mick lets Ray go. He'd like to stay but he also doesn't want New Guy stumbling into the room. Or anywhere, for that matter. "We're off to pick up Stein and the kid next. You might want to hurry along here."

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I will, Mick."

And Mick sighs and raises a hand to tug gently at Palmer's beard, "This looks ridiculous by the way. Shave it off."

Palmer laughs.

\---

So yeah, he's sleeping with Palmer. Hell, sleeping's probably the wrong word. Fucking. He's fucking Palmer.

They've got a full house, Stein and Sara and the kid are all safe and accounted for and while Sara _almost_ got burnt at the stake and Jax probably spent the last three months being reminded by Stein that he should be grateful he's fully vaccinated or some other bullshit, everyone seems relatively okay.

Hunter's dead, apparently and the New Guy is bunking in Len's old room. Mick feels all sorts of raw when the New Guy sticks his foot in it and asks about the clothes still in the dresser. It's the middle of dinner, Mick lets his hand slam down on to the table, Palmer stares very hard at his food and Sara clenches her jaw, squeezing the handle of her knife hard enough to make her knuckles go white.

Stein explains in careful tones and New Guy apologises, blushing awkwardly but Mick's stuck on a loop now, imagining Len's part in the stilted conversation over dinner, imagining Len's reaction to Hunter's message. Imagining Len sitting next to Palmer not too close but close, making sure the New Guy knew what was what.

He caught them together once, Len and Palmer - _Raymond_ , Len had called him with barely concealed ire. (It's why Mick can only think of Palmer as _Palmer,_ not Ray or Raymond; they feel like Len's words, feel clunky on Mick's tongue.) They were in one of the training rooms, Len in Palmer's lap, one of his hands stroking them off between them, the other braced against the wall behind Palmer's head. Palmer's hands were around Len's hips, their foreheads were pressed together, Palmer's eyes were closed.

" _Len, Len, Len,"_ he was panting. " _Len, Len, Len."_

Len was watching, mouth hanging open, eyes dark with lust.

Mick had known Len was fucking the kid, it started sometime after Russia and Len had made a big deal of it in his own way, getting drunk and making a fool of himself pining behind closed doors. Mick had rolled his eyes. For whatever reason, Len tended to fall for idiots with hearts of gold. He'd never cared before, Len was a big boy, he could take care of himself but for whatever reason, seeing them together had made him feel _something._ Not quite jealousy, he thinks. Not quite loneliness or a sense of being left out but _something_.

Maybe in a really twisted way that's why he's doing this, keeping them both grounded for Len's sake. Maybe Mick's always had a weakness for ridiculous brown eyes and hearts of gold that he can stamp all over. Whatever it is, he _really_ fucking likes the sounds he can drag out of Palmer, the wrecked moans, the hitched breath, the streams of nonsense words that inevitably devolve into _oh fuck, oh fuck, oh **fuck**_ -

It's the only time Mick's heard him curse; he wonders if Len brought that out in Palmer as well.

He corners Palmer in the corridor after dinner, thrusts him up against the wall and kisses him roughly. Palmer arches and shudders, gasps when Mick shoves his knee between Palmer's thighs. "Shouldn't we wait 'til we're inside," he asks, breathlessly.

"It's all the same to me, Haircut," Mick hisses, nipping at Palmer's lips.

Palmer's room is closet, he drags Mick in by the shirt front and Mick fucks him into the mattress to make up for however many months it actually is Palmer's spent alone.

He stays longer than he usually does. He's not soft like that, like Len or Kendra or whatever other pretty thing Palmer had warming his bed before this whole mess, watches Palmer's chest rise and fall.

Len would never let him live this down.

**Author's Note:**

> i heard on the streets (and by streets i mean internet) that everyone's favourite unapologetically queer rogue is going to come back mid-season as one of the big bads because *someone* couldnt leave the time line alone.
> 
> anyway, expect angsty ray/len stuff after that or before that who knows


End file.
